


A Little Less John Hughes, A Little More Fall Out Boy AU

by red_crate



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 07:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10509357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Upon opening the door, Pete very quickly learned two things, 1) Bert McCracken, is, in fact very, very gay and 2) bullet proof vests are kind of heavy and hurt a lot when they hit your foot.A Sixteen Candles AUPosted from livejournal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posted as written in 2009.

 

  
  
  
[i hope he is a gentleman]

  
  
When waking up, Patrick had hoped that maybe, just maybe, something would feel different. As he stared, bleary-eyed up at the ceiling, he noted that no he did not feel older or wiser or anything that he was hoping for. The reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of his door told him that he didn’t look any different either, not even a single new hair on his chin. Letting out a dejected sigh, he dressed in his favorite David Bowie tee and a pair of khaki shorts over his red and white Adidas shoes, topped off by a coordinating “Your Mom” trucker hat that Patrick thought gave him a bit of flare. After dressing and grabbing his books, Patrick finally ventured out of his room into the chaos of the Stump house and was almost ran over by his mother who was attempting to pull Mikey from his room.  
  
“Mikey! You have to get to the rental store and pick up your tux.” Donna, their mother, sounded a little more than frustrated. She threw a “help me” look at Patrick before he ducked down the stairs to avoid being sucked into that void.  
  
“Have you seen my briefcase?” His father was moving boxes of received wedding invitations on the table by the front door, hoping he might find his misplaced work essential. He nodded to the hallway closet and told Patrick to look in there while he looked through the front door window at the trash can sitting by the street.  
  
Patrick rolled his eyes but paused when his mom stalked down the stairs and pinned him in her sights. “If you ever get married, get eloped.” She let out a huff. “Your brother is going to be the death of me. Thank God he’s going to be Alicia’s problem after tomorrow.”  
  
Holding up his briefcase triumphantly after finding it hanging on the coat rack, his dad pointed to the door. “Bus. Don’t want to be late Pat.”  
  
Patrick hesitated a second, looking pointedly at his parents. When his mom disappeared into the kitchen and his father busied himself with adjusting his tie in the hallway mirror, Patrick opened the front door and plodded to the bus. “Happy birthday to me.” Patrick’s mood was sufficiently darkened as he climbed the dirty steps and avoided the bus driver’s yellow smile.  
  
Oh dear Lord in Heaven, the bus. Kids were talking loudly at one another, smacking gum and throwing empty soda bottles. Patrick sat down in the first available bench seat, close to the front of the bus, and pretended to melt into the fake vinyl. Opening his binder, Patrick found an empty piece of paper and started doodling to keep himself from screaming.    
  
At the next stop, Joe clambered on, slouching next to him and smelling suspiciously like too much Old Spice and weed. “So, can I count on you driving us to the dance tonight?” The mere fact that Joe Trohman was any kind of excited about the New Faces Dance tonight at school was an indicator of how strange he was in general.  
  
“No. They forgot.” The bus screeched to a stop outside the school. Patrick took a moment to stare off at the student parking lot and fantasize about pulling up in a black convertible. Giving up the dream, he turned his attention back to Joe.  “No license. No car. No fucking ‘happy birthday.’” Patrick followed Joe off the bus and into the school.  
  
Joe shrugged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe they’re gonna sneak attack you after school with a surprise party or some shit.” Taking a crack at his combo lock, Joe leaned his forehead against the locker. “Oh yeah, happy birthday man.” He shoved his backpack into Patrick’s chest, smiling. “Inside the little zippy part.”  
  
Managing to open the small pocket on Joe’s backpack at before Joe had gotten his locker sprung loose, Patrick pulled a gift card from Best Buy from amongst broken pencils, scraps of paper, and what looked like an overly hopeful condom. “Hey, thanks!” He dropped Joe’s backpack to his feet and looked at the back where $20 was written in black sharpie. Patrick punched Joe lightly on the shoulder. Joe grinned at his locker when it opened, spilling textbooks and rumpled notebooks onto the floor.  
  
“Yeah.” Joe picked his Biology book up and threw the rest of his books back into the locker. “We’re totally going to party tonight right? At the dance?” Joe was fingering something in his pocket and Patrick didn’t have the patience to ask.  
  
Patrick sighed. “Sure. I guess.” They walked to first period, skipping a stop to Patrick’s locker.  His train of thought wondered back to the original topic of conversation. “It’s not like I wanted the whole deal or anything, just a ‘happy birthday’ and a cake or something. Sometimes I fucking hate Mikey.” He knew he was being whiney about it, but it was his sixteenth birthday.  
  
Joe pulled him into a headlock, almost banging his hip into a water fountain in the process. “Hey, I’m glad you were born.” He let Patrick go receiving a friendly “Shut the fuck up” and a slap on the arm. Patrick blushed.  
  
  
  
First period Biology was boring in general because Patrick was almost too good at science and also had a tendency to read ahead, so he already knew what the teacher was going to discuss. Penning notes from the overhead was second-nature, so much so that when Joe passed out, he took to taking down two sets of notes, even if Joe probably wouldn’t look over them; he was a good friend like that. He watched as Andy threw a paper wad into Joe’s Jewfro and rolled his eyes.  
  
When the teacher decided to go off on a tangent about what ink is made of, because someone had made a comment about needing to borrow a pen, Patrick opened up his Literature book and started reading “A Doll’s House.”  Finding little patience for Nora and Torvald, Patrick zoned out. The unbalanced marriage between the two characters had caused Patrick to think about his older brother. Mikey, Patrick knew, was in a little over his head with a pregnant fiancé and crappy job at Kinkos. Patrick could remember, not too far back, when it seemed that the Stump house had been a revolving door of pretty, pixy-like girls (Mikey’s taste); now Alicia was knocked-up and swollen, going back and forth between Donna’s kitchen and her dorm room. Mikey may have gotten all the looks and all the self esteem, but Patrick had gotten all the common sense.  
  
The bell rang, pulling Patrick from his spiral into Mikey’s scandalous life and nudged Joe awake. “Did you sleep at all last night?” He and Joe maneuvered past a group of preppy girls who were chattering about getting their nails done for the dance or possibly about whether or not pharmacies sold the Plan B pill on Saturdays.  
  
Joe paused to consider Patrick’s question. “Four hours. Got caught up in thought.” And by “thought,” Joe meant spazzing over a psychedelic glow-in-the-dark felt poster he bought at Spencer’s the day before.  
  
Patrick declined to inform Joe about the spit wad embedded in his curls. “Whatever. You need to chill out or something.” He knew it would be too deep of a conversation if he tried to have a mini intervention during the middle of class change. He caught the slightly guilty look in Joe’s eyes but let it go, at least it was something. “See you at lunch?”  
  
“It’s a date.” The goofy, forgiving smile on Joe’s face made Patrick laugh and shove him into the lockers. “Ow! You’ve bruised my soul, Patrick Stump! You’ve bruised my soul!” Joe rubbed at his upper arm before ducking into a class room with a guffaw.  
  
Grabbing a swivel chair in the computer lab, Patrick logged into the student network and waited anxiously for the second bell to ring, starting class. He was in Advanced Computer Functions, which was a mixed class with kids from all grades. Peaking to his left, Patrick spotted Pete Wentz, resident hottie and soccer star. Pete wasn’t tall or totally built, but he made up for it in personality and charisma (and wealth). He was currently regaling two of his friends with a story about something that happened at the movies with Ashlee.  
  
Yeah, Patrick sighed and looked back at his monitor screen, Ashlee. She was the bane of everyone’s existence because she was beautiful (a JC Penny model), sweet (she talked to everyone), and smart (she took all AP classes). Pete and Ashlee were pretty much the perfect couple, and that made Patrick’s weird little crush all the more unnecessary and embarrassing.  
  
The teacher finally came to his mental rescue by instructing the students to open up Photoshop so they could learn how to make faux banners for the school dance tonight. On Fridays, Mr. Walker made their lessons more fun. Twenty minutes later, Patrick logged into myspace via an outside proxy after getting his banner finished; it might not have been as cohesive as some might like, but it was all in the eye of the beholder as far as Patrick was concerned. (Besides, Patrick wasn’t truly talented at visual art like he was with music)  
  
Surveys were kind of Patrick’s addiction on myspace. In all actuality, Patrick knew no one really read his stupid little surveys he posted in bulletins. Despite that, he still answered the (sometimes lame) questions and posted them almost religiously. Maybe someone would read them and actually care about his answers. Maybe. Patrick scrolled down a bulletin, skipping over the girl’s answers and weighing whether or not he wanted to do this particular survey. Her answers were pretty generic and flirty, some were avoiding. The questions tended to focus on the sex life. Copying and pasting the survey, Patrick erased the girl’s answers and started typing his own.  
  
_What’s your orientation? Gay, Straight, Bi, or Alien?_  
Patrick scrolled the page all the way up so no one would be able to read the question.

Undecided?  
  
_Who was your first kiss?_  
Wendy Sullivan in the fifth grade.  
  
_Are you still a virgin?_  
Um…  
  
_Are you being honest?_  
Sure  
  
_If you said ‘no’ to the virgin question, who was it with?_  
N/A  
  
_If you said ‘yes’ or ‘maybe’ who would you like your first time to be with?_  
Pausing, Patrick looked over his left again to where Pete was squinting at the screen in front of him, trying to get the color right. Patrick swallowed hard and reminded himself that this was just a bulletin that would probably be ignored, and besides, none of his friends on myspace would out him or give him too much shit over it anyway.  
Pete Wentz  
  
_Does that person know you want them?_  
Hell no.   
  
_What do you fantasize about when you masterbate?_  
Haha, like I’d say  
  
Patrick quickly clicked back to his Photoshop project when Mr. Walker walked down the aisle, checking everyone’s progress. He stopped at Patrick’s computer. “Patrick, I know you could do so much better…” The teacher pointed to the positioning of the high school’s name. “That’s practically on top of the name of the dance. Move that, okay? Try playing around with the fonts too, it’s kind of boring.” Mr. Walker wasn’t one for beating around the bush.  
  
“Yeah.” Patrick sighed with guilt and started moving the text up and over, changing the font around, changing the color and texture. Getting sucked into the process of making the banner, Patrick jumped a little when the bell rang. He saved the project and grabbed his stuff before weaving his way to the lunch room.  
  
“Stump!” Joe waved Patrick over to where he was standing in the lunch line and talking to Travis McCoy, a black guy with a penchant for weed and one-night stands; Patrick secretly thought Joe had a man-crush on Travis.  
  
Patrick’s eyes bugged out and stopped suddenly, “Shit!” He looked back to the direction of the computer lab but was kept from going back by the sheer amount of students blocking him.  
  
[won’t find out (he won’t find out)]  
  
  
Detention sucked for the most part, but having detention in ACF wasn’t as bad as it could be. On Monday, Pete had gotten in trouble for mass spamming the classroom with pictures of Brittney Spears’ pussy. Mr. Walker, being the laidback teacher he was, merely fussed and forced Pete to stay after class and shut down all the computers before going to lunch-for a month. Mr. Walker stepped out of the room and called someone on his cell phone; Pete considered just ditching and leaving the rest of the computers on sleep mode. An impatient text from Ashlee talked him out of it. He sat heavily in a chair and jiggled the mouse so the main screen would come back on.  
  
“Well this is interesting.” Pete clicked the Internet Explorer tab on the taskbar, bringing up the window. It was a myspace survey from the looks of it. Pete almost ex-ed it out before his own name caught his attention.  
  
If you said ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ who would you like your first time to be with?  
Pete Wentz.  
  
He looked up to the little default picture in the left hand side of the screen and paused. It was a guy. A goofy looking grin sitting in the middle of an average looking face with a brown mesh trucker hat tilted to the side on top of his head. The name was “It’s Patrick, Not Pat.” Pete couldn’t resist the urge to click back to Patrick’s homepage where he saw the kid had like sixty friends, of which, Pete only recognized four. Patrick apparently was into the local music scene but also into seventies and eighties pop rock, he also was kind of obsessed with eighties teen movies and liked to read all sorts of stuff. Pete looked through Patrick’s pics, lingering on them the more he saw. Pete recognized this kid. He knew this kid.  
  
[someday i’ll appreciate in value]  
  
“Dude, relax. It probably just got deleted or lostwhen Mr. Walker shut it down.” Joe pointed a french fry at him before shoving it in his mouth. “I don’t see what the BFD is anyway. So you left a stupid survey up…ooh.” He made a stupid scared face, receiving a less than soft punch to the shoulder from Patrick. “God, you’re violent today. PMS much?” He snorted. “Oh God, PMS…” He doubled over at his own joke and Patrick crossed his arms on the table and dropped his head into the makeshift pillow, ignoring the annoying laugh of his best friend.  
  
“Hate you.” Patrick mumbled.  
  
Third and Fourth Period drug on and on because Patrick’s thoughts alternated between thoughts of it being his sixteenth birthday (and no one caring, other than Joe) and his stupid ass leaving the survey available for anyone in school to stumble across. Patrick climbed onto the school bus and was actually grateful to be there. Joe was sprawled out in the opposite bench beside him, blaring some Massive Attack (his new favorite band) into his brain with help of a beat up MP3 player his parent’s got him for Hanukah last year.  
  
Patrick let his head fall against the window as his eyes fell shut and he drifted asleep as the bus tumbled along the road. When he opened his eyes almost twenty minutes later, the bus was close to empty. Sitting beside him was a gangly, skinny girl with a mild case of acne, braces, and wire framed glasses; she was grinning at Patrick. “Hey, there.” “It seemed, she was trying to flirt with him, what with the batting of eyes and licking of sparkly lips.  
  
“Uh…hey.” Patrick sat up a little and pressed into the metal of the bus wall.  
  
“So are you going to the dance tonight?” The girl scooted closer until their legs were touching; her bright yellow Members Only jacket made a shwish noise.  
  
“Yeah.” He glanced out the window and realized, regrettably, that he still had five minutes until he would be at his bus stop.  
  
“Oh good! I’m going too…” Her question had sounded leading, and Patrick was really uncomfortable. “You know, we could totally go together.” Her lip caught on her braces but she recovered by licking at it.  
  
Patrick pretended he hadn’t heard her, suddenly interested in the corner of his binder where the plastic was starting to peel. He picked at it and grimaced when the girl leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. She had a lot of hairspray gluing her side ponytail in place. (Apparently, someone forgot to tell this girl it was no longer 1985) Shrugging away from her, Patrick made a strangled, “Mmmng.” sound but figured he should probably articulate his feelings a little better. “Uh, I uh…friends.”  
  
The girl’s head popped up (thankfully) and her eyes shone at him. “Friends? We could totally start like that. I mean, that’s the best way to start any relationship.”  
  
“Oh thank God.” Patrick mumbled to himself as he scooted past the girl and said hurriedly, “I’ve got a lot going on right now…” The bus had stopped in front of Patrick’s house where he saw that his grandparents had arrived in their Oldsmobile. He took a deep breath and hopped off the bus to open the front door.  
  
“Mom! Where’s the marriage license?” Mikey whined in anxiety as he leaned over the banister of the staircase. His hair was at odd angles like he might have been pulling at it for the last half hour. He spotted Patrick. “Have you seen it? Alicia has been calling me and texting me for the past hour yelling at me because she swears up and down I have it.” His scene glasses slid a little down his nose; Mikey pushed them back, brows knitted in frustrations.  
  
Donna popped her head out of the kitchen where she was probably working on one of the dishes for the reception she had been blackmailed into making by Alicia’s mom. She had a smear of chocolate on her chin and a scowl on her face. “No! You’re not twelve anymore Michael. I don’t keep up with your things anymore either.” She relented though after a second. “Check you desk draw. Either that or have Alicia check her desk draw.”  
  
She disappeared back into the kitchen after Mikey threw his hands up in the air. “There might not be a wedding.” He stalked back up the stairs to presumably check his desk and call Alicia.  
  
Patrick looked hesitantly in the living room to see if any of his grandparents were setting up camp in there. When Patrick didn’t see any luggage from the fifties or sheets on the sofa, he went up to the guest bedroom and hesitantly opened the door. Sure enough, there his mom’s parents were unpacking their harvest gold suitcases fighting about denture adhesive or something.  
  
“Hey, Grammy and Poppa.” Patrick walked in and waiting to be bombarded by wrinkly hugs and gingivitis kisses. Grammy and Poppa did just that, ooh-ing and ah-ing over how “grown up” their darling little grandchild was looking with his ever so slight stubble and deeper voice than they remembered. They asked him about his role in the wedding as the Best Man (“Are you excited?”) and if he was dating (“what ever happened to that nice Wendy?”). Not once did the subject of his birthday come up. Excusing himself to go study, Patrick backed out of the room and retreated to his room in order to have a good long sulk at the unfairness of his life. Grandparents were supposed to live for this shit.  
  
He threw himself backwards onto his bed and felt his eyes tear up from the frustration. He dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and gritted his teeth.  
  
“You’re blocking my light.” Patrick jumped, heart stopping (he was sure of it) for almost a full thirty seconds before skittering on back to its original pace as he looked at the pastey white guy with stringy black hair who was sitting on the floor drawing in a sketchbook with charcoal sticks. He looked a little disgruntled.  
  
Patrick stared in shock. “Wh-what?” He pulled at his hat before abandoning his room to the nameless boy. He stomped down to the kitchen and hands on his hips. “There’s a gothic vampire dude in my room andI’m pretty sure he wasn’t there when I left.”  
  
Donna gave him a withering look as she stirred something that looked like Rocky Road Brownies in a mixing bowl. “That’s Gerard. He’s an exchange student from New Jersey.”  
  
“Why is he in my room?” Patrick sat down at the dinner table and stared vacantly at a coconut cake which had been recently iced.  
  
“He’s a guest, Patrick.” Donna pointed to one of the cabinets. “Get me one of the brownie pans while you’re here.”  
  
Before getting up, Patrick flicked a piece of innocent coconut shaving off the table and sighed. Pulling down the 8x10 pan and set it on the counter, wondering if she’d made anything acceptable for dinner as opposed to dessert. “So why is he in my room?” Patrick still didn’t understand how that correlated with the stranger in his room.  
  
As she poured the batter into the pan, Donna explained, “It’s only right that the guest stay in an actual bed. You don’t want to be a bad host do you?”  
  
“Well, where am I staying then?” Patrick’s arms were crossed defensively over his chest as he knew what the answer was going to be.  
  
“The couch. It’s just one night.” Donna tapped the pan on the counter so the batter spread out evenly. “I’ve got leftovers in the fridge for tonight. Your dad and I are going to eat with The Simmons.” She didn’t sound too happy, but, then again, Donna was stressed. Patrick got his temperament from his mother.  
  
“You know I’m going to that dance at school tonight right?” He put the pan his mother handed him into the oven and set the timer. “I have to go. It’s for P.E.” There was no way Patrick wanted to spend his birthday night hanging out with his scatterbrained grandparents and this Gerard character.  
  
Donna gave him the I’m-your-mother-and-I-know-best look. “Don’t you think it would be nice to spend time with your grandparents? Maybe get to know Gerard a little?” There was a hint of a threat in his mother’s voice.  
  
Patrick shrugged. “If you want me to get a zero, then sure. I’ll be here for dinner anyway. The dance doesn’t start until eight.” He waited as his mom judged his words.  
  
“Fine. You can go to the dance.” She waved him off. “Honey, you’re kind of in my way here. I’ve got so much to do before I get ready for dinner.”  
  
[the hope I forget]  
  
“What’s with the vampire?” Joe whispered into Patrick’s ear from the backseat.  
  
Patrick elbowed him when Gerard said, “I can hear you nitwit.”  
  
Joe fell back into the seat. “Nitwit? Seriously?”  
  
Smiling, Patrick shrugged. “This is Gerard. He’s an exchange student from New Jersey who is staying with my grandparents.” Patrick pointed at an oncoming road sign. “Take a right at Ivy.” Turning back to his best friend, Patrick explained further. “My grandparents basically blackmailed me into bringing him with us.”  
  
“Hey, if it weren’t for me, your ass would be riding a bus.” Gerard defended. “It’s not like I really want to go to a fucking dance. But Gran guilt-tripped me into it.”  
  
“Well, it’s nice to see her powers work on others besides me. Okay, you can just park here. The dance is in the gym.” Patrick undid his seatbelt and got out, smoothing his button-up shirt. Gerard was still dressed in skin-tight black jeans and a tight, black muscle tee (though Gerard didn’t really have the muscles); an “authentic” bullet-proof vest was strapped to his chest (which at the sight of, Joe had wondered, loudly, if he expected some Crypts to be driving by any time soon). Joe wore jeans, scuffed Vans, and a light blue Fender tee.  
  
Gerard sighed. “Typical.”  
  
Joe leaned forward, defensive of his school’s budget. “Hey, what kind of awesome dances do you have back in Jersey? You got chocolate fountains and hotel ballrooms?” His sarcasm was almost visible. Gerard didn’t say anything and kept walking. Joe nodded once with a sudden, amused smile. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Bitch.”  
  
Patrick got out of the car as Gerard arched a black eyebrow and suggested finding some alcohol and a real party. Joe laughed, giving him a high-five. Patrick rolled his eyes before pulling Joe out of the backseat and reminded him that the dance had been his idea. “We might as well make an appearance.” Patrick failed to mention that he also kind of wanted to see if Pete was wearing a tux.  
  
“This blows.” Gerard said the second the three of them walked inside the gym after paying ten bucks a pop for admittance.  
  
Two disco balls hung from the ceiling, along with silver streamers; Nelly was blaring from the speakers and the floor was almost completely deserted except for a few freshmen, the mentally handicapped kids, and a group of football players over by the refreshment tables who were trying to get their dates to “take off all their clothes.” Clearly, the idea of the dance was more enjoyable than the actual dance.  
  
Patrick crossed his arms and looked at Joe as if it were all his fault. “Seriously, I think Gerard is right. Why did you want to come here anyway?” He looked at the bored teachers playing chaperone in a huddle by the door. Mr. Walker was texting on his Sidekick.  
  
Joe made a face and pointed over to a group of popular kids who were sitting at one of the few tables in the gym. Ashlee and Pete were in the middle of the crowd, talking, heads titled towards each other. Pete was wearing a smart looking powder blue tux; he probably thought it was ironic or something. Patrick’s face automatically pinked and he hit Joe on the shoulder for it. “Dude, what the fuck?”  
  
Exchanging a silent look with Gerard, Joe pulled Patrick a few steps away. His expression was honest, like he was pleading his case. “Come on, this is like, the last chance you got until he graduates.” Joe hissed so the other boy wouldn’t hear. Gerard was staring disgustedly at a poor attempt of a mural on one of the walls.  
  
Seeing that Joe was actually meant it, Patrick pulled Joe a little bit further away, demanding, “What do you think’s gonna happen? I mean, he’s obviously straight-he’s been with Ashlee all year. I’m a sophomore and he’s a senior.” His eyes automatically went back to where Pete was sitting, now laughing. Patrick swallowed hard and focused back on Joe. “There’s no way anything thing’s going to happen.” The sentence ended with an almost whine.  
  
Joe’s face became totally serious, borderline angry. “I’m tired of hearing you pine over him and not do anything about it, Patrick. You’ve never even said one fucking word to him. I just want you to get this out of your system.” Stopping, Joe gave Patrick a hard look, considering. “You know, I’d be happy if you just talked to him and found out he is a total fuckjob so you would stop talking about him and fawning over him.”  
  
“Whatever Joe. I don’t need you playing match-maker or some shit. This isn’t a movie. This is the real world.” Patrick’s arms were crossed. Despite his own words, adrenaline was still coursing through his veins at the mere idea of getting to hook up with Pete. He was way in over his head. “Whatever you were planning on happening tonight, probably won’t be happening, so you can take your big nose a keep it in your own business.” Patrick would have laughed at the lameness of his own insult, if he weren’t getting so pissed off.  
  
Joe rolled his eyes, hands flailing a bit as he pointed a jabbing finger. “Screw you Patrick. I’m just trying to help. I thought that's what friends are supposed to do.” He threw his arms out in exasperation. “Fuck this, I’m going to smoke up.”  
  
As Joe turned to leave, Patrick called out after him. “Yeah, that’s right, go get high and forget about all the problems in the world. That’s really helpful.” Patrick’s face was getting red from the buildup of frustration all day.  
  
Joe whipped around and stalked back, not stopping until he was in Patrick’s face; he gave a little shove to Patrick’s chest. “Dude, I don’t got nearly as many problems as you. At least I’m not crushing on a fucking dickwad senior asshole. At least I talk to the kid I like; I’ve got more balls than you.” Joe clamped his mouth shut. Patrick was suddenly taken aback at the venom in Joe’s voice. Gerard had made the mistake of walking over before stepping back a few paces after he realized Joe and Patrick were arguing. “You know what,” Joe continued, face hateful and voice hurting. “ you are a dickwad Patrick-a fucking dickwad because you don’t even see anything in front of you.” With that, Joe stormed off, leaving an angry and confused Patrick and an awkward Gerard.  
  
“So, uh, I guess this dance isn’t as boring as I thought it was going to be?” Gerard’s attempt at humor came out as a question; he pointed at the refreshment table. “Uh, do you like, want some water or something? You’re looking…kind of…warm.”  
  
Patrick shook his head and waved Gerard off. “I’m just going to go sit and cool off. And forget this crap. I’ll see you later, Gerard.” He walked off towards the bathroom and hoped to God no one who mattered had heard what exactly he and Joe had been fighting about.  
  
Gerard looked around the gym and sighed, wishing he was back in New Jersey, still in his parents’ basement where he could just paint his own world; the real world was fucking insane.  
  
[i’m willing to take my chances]  
  
“I can’t wait to go back to your place.” Ashlee smiled wickedly at Pete from behind her plastic cup of spiked punch. “I love it when your parents are out of town.”  
  
Pete was staring at the other side of the gym where a very familiar guy was arguing heatedly with someone else; he looked back at his girlfriend. “What?”  
  
“What’s your problem, Wentz?” Ashlee moved closer; her voice had an edge of vodka to it. “You’ve been acting really weird all day. Actually, you’ve been acting weird for a while now.” She looked concerned and annoyed at the same time; Pete wanted to congratulate her on the feat.  
  
“Nothing.” He sighed and ran a hand over his buzzed head, wishing he still had some length to it. Pete looked at Ashlee in her tight black dress with a slit up to the hip and barely had any physical reaction. “Don’t invite anyone else okay? Your friends trashed the place last time.”  
  
Leaning away and crossing her arms, Ashlee gave him a look. “They’re your friends too.” When Pete didn’t relent, she sighed. “Fine, I’ve already invited a couple of my girlfriends, but I’ll tell them not to breathe a word to anyone else.”  
  
Eyes straying back to the other side of the gym, Pete watched as Patrick left. Pete stood up. “I have to piss.”  
  
Ashlee waved her hand like she was a princess giving her servant permission to do his chores. “Whatever. Just hurry up, because I want to leave soon.”  
  
Moving across the gym took a few minutes because several half-drunk jocks kept stopping him to tell him what a swell guy he was and hey, maybe he’d like to share that nice little piece of ass, Ashlee, with them some time? Pete shrugged off the inane conversations and eventually made it outside the school, looking, hoping, to find Patrick. Instead, he ended up running into the guy Patrick had been arguing with. The kid with the afro was sitting behind the school, half-hidden by bushes.  
  
“Well, if it isn’t his Royal Dickwad Wentz.” Joe said as he breathed out the smoke he’d been holding in. “Looking for a hit or something?” He clenched his free fist and smiled a little crazily.  
  
Pete stepped back, unsure what this guy’s problem was. “Um, I was just looking for that guy you were talking to. Patrick?” He watched warily as Joe stood up and took another hit from his joint, glaring at him. “You know, I’ll just go back and find him myself.”  
  
“You think you’re such a hotshot don’t you Pete Wentz?” Joe’s eyes were bloodshot and his voice was rather mellow. “You think you can just have whoever the fuck you want because you’re Pete Fucking Wentz.”  
  
Hearing the side door swing open from behind, Pete turned to see a young girl wearing a hot pink knee length dress with a pencil skirt (not that Pete knew what a pencil skirt was). She waved her fingers at him and patiently waited. “Yeah. Okay. I’m leaving now.”  
  
Pete walked back into the school, trying to figure out why that guy would be so angry at him. Did more people think of him like that? Pete chalked it up to the weed paranoia. He pushed the door to the bathroom open, heading to a sink in order to wipe his face with a wet paper towel and waste some more time. The sound of a bathroom stall door being unlocked made Pete look up from where he was wringing out a paper towel. Patrick was staring at him through the mirror with puffy eyes and a white face. “Hey. You okay?” Patrick had obviously been crying.  
  
Patrick’s face bloomed red and he squeaked before rushing out of the bathroom.  
  
“What the fuck.” Pete shook his head and threw the paper towel away. He considered catching up with Patrick, but decided against it. After all, Pete didn’t want to mess up his tux with whatever asshole’s blood had made Patrick cry. Flaring his nostrils, Pete shook his head at himself. “Pete, you’re making a big mistake.”

  
[sport my brand new fashion]  
  
Patrick scanned the faces in the crowd looking for Gerard. He’d just had the worst fight ever with his best friend and he had managed to humiliate himself in front of PetefuckingWentz-this was absolutely the worst birthday in history. Walking from one end of the gym to the other, he still hadn’t found Gerard. Instead, he almost ran back into Pete, who was on his way find to Ashlee.  
  
Patrick left to hide in the cafeteria for a while, cursing Gerard Way.  
  
Gerard Way was making out with Bert McCracken in the band room.  
  
After sitting in the darkness of the cafeteria for a good long time, Patrick gave himself permission to no longer be embarrassed by the hot tears that leaked out the sides of his eyes. He pillowed his head on his crossed arms. Joe was pissed at him for whatever reason; his chest hurt and his throat hurt from choking back the emotions. Patrick closed his eyes and went over the argument again. “You don’t even see what’s in front of you.” Patrick’s stomach dropped and a new kind of pain grew in his chest. The knowledge suddenly dawned on him; Joe had a crush on him. Oh God. And, all those times Patrick had pined over Pete to Joe. Goosebumps shot up and down his arms; the hair on the back of his neck stood up.“Shit.”  
  
“Oh my God, don’t do that!” A girl’s voice warned. A tall, skinny figure was standing by the doorway of the kitchen area. “What are you going in here? No one’s allowed in here, I thought.”  
  
“What are you doing in here?” As the girl came closer, Patrick recognized her as the freshman who had flirted with him earlier that day. Her arms were full of pudding cups.  
  
“Patrick?” One of the pudding cups fell from her hands. “Oh my God.” She giggled nervously before dropping all the pudding cups on Patrick’s table. “Want something to snack on?” She smelled like pot.  
  
“Jesus, is anyone not a pothead in this school?” He let his head fall back onto his arms. “Why are you stealing from the kitchen?”  
  
“Why not?” The girl was a lot less annoying when she was stoned. She handed him a plastic spoon and dug into one of the cups herself. “I was hungry.”  
  
Pulling the lid off a cup and licking the foil (it was chocolate), Patrick shrugged. “Okay.”  
  
The girl giggled again. “Hey, look, we’re at the dance together. Well, in the cafeteria while the dance is happening-but that’s just semantics. Heh.” Patrick could hear her sucking on the spoon; it popped out of her mouth with a smack. “You know what would be totally rad? If, like, we had sex and used fucking pudding as lube.”  
  
Patrick balked and turned three shades of red; he choked on the pudding. “What?!” He listened to her giggling and slapping her leg. “That’s wrong on so many levels…”  
  
“Oh my God, I was just kidding. Besides, I already know you’re gay!” She sounded highly amused.  
  
Patrick’s muscles locked up and he held his breath. “What. Are you talking about?”  
  
“Oh my God, it’s so obvious. I mean, I wasn’t sure until I heard you and Joe fighting, but duh. It’s such a shame though. But you and Pete would make a cute couple I guess.”  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me right?” Patrick banged his head against the table and was thankful for the darkness of the room.  
  
Sensing Patrick might be freaking out a little, the girl scooted closer. “I’m serious. It’s okay though! I think he likes you too.”  
  
Snapping his head up, Patrick said, “Huh? What are you talking about?”  
  
“I totally heard him asking about you. He was talking to Joe. Joe’s pretty upset though. I think you really hurt his feelings. But he did say that if you didn’t like him, then he’d rather see you happy with someone then pining after someone.” An empty cup hit the floor and another cup was opened; Patrick could smell the vanilla.  
  
“How do you know this stuff?” Patrick sounded a little scared and impressed at the same time. The room was literally spinning and he wasn’t even high.  
  
“I’m fucking stealth Baby.” She giggled. “You’re such a heart breaker; I had a crush on you for almost three weeks before Joe told me.”  
  
Patrick passed up asking about her and Joe’s crushes and opted for the more pressing question. “How do you know Pete was asking after me? What did he say? What did Joe say?”  
  
“Because I was there, duh. I saw Joe heading outside and totally knew he was gonna smoke up so I was going out there to bum one off him to ya know? And then Pete was out there asking about you, but Joe got kind of paranoid and hostile on his ass so Pete left. Joe and I smoked up though. Pretty good stuff too. He’s got good taste.”  
  
“So Pete just left? Like, what did he sound like when he was asking about me?” Patrick’s heartbeat was speeding up a little.  
  
“I don’t know. Like he wanted to know where you were? But he totally digs you, I think. I mean, why else would be want to talk to you right?” The girl took Patrick’s open and otherwise untouched pudding cup, and finished it off. “So, are you gonna go find him and make sweet, sweet buttlove with him?”  
  
“Aren’t you a freshman?” Patrick was definitely horrified by this girl.  
  
“So? I’m fifteen. I know what I’m talking about.” Patrick could practically hear her cross her arms and poke her bottom lip out.  
  
Patrick sighed. “What’s your name anyway?”  
  
“Gabby.” She sounded bored as she opened yet another pudding cup. “Ugh, I’m getting full.”  
  
“Well, uh, thanks Gabby. I think I’m going to find Pete.” Patrick stood. As he was leaving the cafeteria, Gabby called out from behind.  
  
“Make sure you’re making the right decision!”  
  
[where is your boy tonight]  
  
“Dude, hide!” Gerard grabbed at Patrick as he and Bert ran by. “Teachers!” Bert and Gerard were holding hands, and Patrick was pretty sure he didn’t want to ask for details. The three of them ran down the halls towards the gym; Patrick wasn’t really sure if there were any teachers following them. Gerard and Bert collapsed in a heap of laughing, wheezing limbs by the gym door. Patrick looked back inside to see where Joe and Pete were. No sign of either.  
  
“Can you take me home?” Patrick asked, dejected. By this point he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the year away.  
  
From the floor, Gerard caught his breath and looked at Bert. “You mind making a pit stop?”  
  
Patrick gave them a weird look. “What do you mean pit stop? What are you guys going to do?”  
  
Bert looked at him sideways. “Party. Wentz is having a party, and we’re crashing it.”  
  
Gerard perked up at the mention of Wentz; he looked at Patrick. “Hey, you should totally go with us! Maybe you could-och! Hey! I wasn’t going to say anything!” Gee rubbed the spot on his chin where Patrick had kicked him before he had a chance to finish his suggestion.  
  
”I just want to go home, okay?” Patrick helped pull Bert and Gerard to their feet.  
  
“Are you and Joe still pissed at each other?” Gerard asked, voice a little low as Bert dusted off his jean jacket.  
  
Patrick shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. It’ll blow over. I hope.”  
  
[could be an accident]  
  
The ride back to Patrick’s house was mostly silent on Patrick’s part, except for the few times when he couldn’t help but make disgusted noises at the way Bert was practically giving Gerard a handy-j while he drove (because a blowjob would have been tacky). As Gerard slowed the car to a stop outside his house, Patrick hesitated. Gerard made a guttural noise in the back of his throat.  
  
“I guess, I could...go.” Patrick’s hand rested on the door handle, pulling at it slightly. He watched as Bert started kissing at Gerard’s neck and decided he really needed to leave the car-before he needed mind bleach. “I’ll see you guys later…”  
  
Unlocking the front door, Patrick flicked on the porch light and kicked his shoes off. It smelled like roses and sugar inside. Patrick traipsed up to the stairs in order to numb his mind with some good old fashioned myspace surfing. The lights were off in his both his parents and grandparents room. Pausing at Mikey’s door, he knocked lightly.  
  
“Yeah?” Mikey called from inside. He was sitting on his bed, reading an old issue of AP magazine. “What’s up?”  
  
Patrick lingered in the doorway, unsure if he actually felt like talking to his brother. “Nothing.”  
  
Mikey arched a perfect eyebrow.  
  
“Today pretty much sucked.” Patrick moved his hands behind his back, grasping onto the doorframe and resting his head against the wood.  
  
Rolling off his stomach to sit up properly, Mikey asked, “So what sucked?”  
  
“Well, for starters, it’s my birthday and the only person who realized was my possibly ex-best friend.” Patrick let the news sink in and indulged in enjoying the guilt that crossed his brother’s face. Lifting up a hand, Patrick shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m over it.”  
  
“But…dude. I’m sorry.” Mikey looked around, maybe looking for a wrapped gift that didn’t actually exist. “I’ll make it up to you.”  
  
Patrick sighed. “I don’t even care about that anymore.” His eyes strayed to the only hanging picture on Mikey’s wall. It was one of those pictures that they take of each row on a rollercoaster at amusement parks; Alicia has her arms up and a huge grin on her face while Mikey has his eyes shut and looks like he might throw up. “What does love feel like?”  
  
Mikey licked his lips and looked sideways. “Um…it depends, I guess.”  
  
“You don’t love love her do you?” Patrick surmised, feeling a little shameful for calling Mikey out.  
“She’s pregnant.” Mikey shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? I don’t not love her. I just…”  
  
Patrick thought he might know what Mikey was trying to explain. Their parents had all but forced the marriage on Mikey. Their old-fashioned sensibilities only reinforced an underlying fear inside Patrick; there was no way his parents would ever accept him as he truly was. “She’s really nice.” Patrick offered.  
  
Cracking a smile, Mikey added, “And hot. She’s pretty damn smart too. Our kid is going to kick some major ass.” The beam in Mikey’s face reassured Patrick that, even though Mikey was only nineteen, his brother would be a great dad.  
  
“I’m going to be an uncle in June.” The thought had just occurred to Patrick.  
  
Mikey nodded, still smiling. “Yeah.” Moments passed by as each boy let their minds wonder. “Everything is going to be different after tomorrow.”  
  
Patrick chewed on his bottom lip and wondered if his own life would be different in the morning. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you at the alter.” He gave a half-smile before walking across the hall to his room.  
  
[last good thing about this part of town]  
  
An hour into it, and the house was already a complete mess. Pete walked through the living room and looked at all the kids dancing, making out, and drinking; he wanted to throw them all to the road. He picked his way over the carpet, purposefully ignoring the splotches of beer, and almost made it to his bedroom before a very drunk Ashlee caught him round the neck with one of his mom’s feather boas.  
  
“Ooh, there you are Baby. Are you having fun?” Her breath smelled heavily of vodka and her skin was clammy. “You have the best parties.”  
  
Pete was glad he was still sober, because otherwise he would have fallen for her wet lips and shining eyes. “What happened to just a few friends?”  
  
Ashlee gestured to everyone in the room. “These are all our friends.” Pete rolled his eyes and detangled himself from the boa and left Ashlee to all her friends. Ashlee’s interpretation to a “small gathering” was giving a general invite to the entire student body. After dealing with his depression and short stint with addiction to prescription drugs two years ago, Pete wasn’t really in the mind frame to be around huge groups of people all the time. The only reason he was still on the soccer team was because his parents forced him to, in order to keep him “normal.” It wasn’t too hard to see why he had been depressed if one looked hard enough.  
  
Pete had to kick Ryan and Keltie out of his room before he could lock his door and log onto his computer. Pulling up myspace, Pete typed “It’s Patrick, no Pat” into the search bar. He clicked on the link and stared at the default picture. “Are you any better than all this? Would you be worth it?” Pete wanted something new, something different.  
  
The digital clock on the wall caught his attention. It was ten forty-five.  
  
[in the meantime]  
  
After changing his myspace profile song to “Eleanor Rigby” by The Beatles, Patrick was mildly surprised to find he had a new message waiting for him.  
  
It was from PeterPAngelus.  
  
hey just checking 2 c if evrythng is ok u looked upset  
  
Patrick read the message three times before he believe what he was seeing. Beneath Pete’s default picture, the “online” icon blinked at him, inviting him to reply. His hands were sweaty as he contemplated what to say back. Pecking at the keys on his laptop, Patrick typed an equally short message.  
  
I’m okay. Just had a fight with my best friend. Thanks for asking.  
  
He alternated between holding his breath and trying to slow his lungs’ rhythm. Patrick forced himself to check his youtube account (to see how many hits his Transformers vid had gotten since the night before [16 new hits]), check is ebay account (to see if he was winning the old school Nike high-tops he was bidding on [so far, so good]), and change his myspace default picture four times before hitting the “home” button on his myspace toolbar.  
  
He had another message.  
  
that guy w the hash? seems like a jackass. want me to kick his ass?  
  
Smiling and blushing, Patrick typed back.  
  
No thanks. I can handle my problems. Aren’t you supposed to be busy partying?  
  
Patrick almost didn’t hit the send button. But he did.  
  
His phone vibrated in his pocket; it was a text from Joe. meet me outside?  
  
Patrick refreshed his homepage again before answering Joe. I’m home.  
  
I know.  
  
One more refresh with no message and Patrick left his computer to see what Joe wanted to say now. When he opened the front door, Patrick was met with a really lit Joe.  
  
“What-“ Patrick was cut off by Joe crashing his lips to Patrick’s, hands anchoring themselves on his hips. The kiss was forceful like Joe thought he could compel Patrick into accepting it-force Patrick to feel the way he did.  
  
Patrick pulled away, holding Joe by the shoulders, steadying him. “What are you doing?”  
  
“I had to do it. I had to do it before everything was fucking fucked up.” Joe buried his hands in his afro and looked around like someone was going to jump out of the bushes at him. “I couldn’t just sit there and know you were going to hook up with him without knowing. I had to do it.” He voice broke before he could continue.  
  
“You’re high Joe.” Patrick pleaded, not knowing what to do or say.  
  
Joe scrubbed at his face before pulling completely away. “I’m just…I’m going home. Forget about it. It-this…yeah….never. See ya Monday.” Joe stumbled off to his bike which was lying on the lawn.  
  
Patrick stood there, dumbfounded and watched his best friend ride away, zigzagging down the street to his house. Staring at the retreating figure until he could no longer see him, Patrick sucked his bottom lip in, running his tongue over it. He turned and went back inside to his room. His mind was fuzzy and sparks felt like they were going off behind his eyes. “This is just way too much information to deal with.” Thumb resting on the mouse of his laptop, Patrick refreshed his homepage again.  
  
u should come ovr  
  
[get off my ass]  
  
Ashlee was banging on his door, screaming for him to let her in; her voice mixed strangely with the music floating up from the family room where the stereo was. Pete grabbed his keys and a hoodie, having long ago ditched the tux (the powder blue suit had been rented on a dare to see if Ashlee would be willing to be seen with him in it-Pete had been hoping she would refuse). After jotting down the directions to Patrick’s house, Pete prepared himself and opened the door. Ashlee stumbled in, spilling a can of Milwaukee’s Best all over his shoes. “Oh God, I thought you were up here slitting your wrists or something!” She grabbed at his chest, patting the area above his heart. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”  
  
Pete grabbed Ashlee’s forearms and guided her away, barely covering the grimace as he set her down on his bed. “I think you’re done drinking.” He took the almost empty can away from her and threw it in the trash. “I’m going to go get you some water.”  
  
Ashlee fell onto her back. “Aw, you’re such a good boyfriend.”  
  
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Pete ignored the kiss she blew him and shut the door behind him, not looking forward to the mess he’d be cleaning up in the morning.  
  
Downstairs, the mass of bodies had grown and apparently, someone had found his game systems. Some kids were playing Rock Band, and currently, the girl Pete remembered seeing outside when he had been talking to Joe, was pointing at the ceiling and screaming to the top of her lungs, “The Final Countdown” by Europe. She rocked her hips and slung her sideways ponytail a little violently. Pete snuck his way around the onlookers and dashed into the garage, to his Subaru.  
  
Upon opening the door, Pete very quickly learned two things, 1) Bert McCracken, is, in fact very, very gay and 2) bullet proof vests are kind of heavy and hurt a lot when they hit your foot. Swearing loudly and kicking at the SUV with his good foot, Pete’s eyes watered. A very sweaty Bert laughed; Pete could hear him saying something like, “I knew this was a good idea, Gee.” Before clambering out of the vehicle and pulling up his jeans. Gee, the other guy with stringy black hair to rival Bert’s (but not quite as oily) tried hiding his grin as he grabbed his vest from the cement floor and strap it over his bare chest, t-shirt hanging out his back pocket.  
  
Still nursing his foot, Pete couldn’t help but ask, “Where do you even get a bulletproof vest?”  
  
Gee shrugged. “It was just lying around…”  
  
Bert pulled Gee through the door to the house, but not before warning Pete, “Hey, keep an eye out for the condom, I can’t find it.”  
  
Pete shuddered and almost considered not getting Patrick. He looked at the directions (written on the order form of an Avon magazine) and prepared himself for the stench of sex and cigarettes as he climbed into the SUV and backed out of the driveway. He drove to Patrick’s house with all the windows down and his nose covered by the neck of his hoodie.  
  
[more than i could say]  
  
Patrick changed his shirt three times before Pete knocked on the door; he changed his mind five times before settling on yes. Stepping onto the porch, Patrick was hit with the odd thought that this was like a date in reverse. Half of him felt like he should check to see that his parents weren’t peeking out the windows to make sure Pete wasn’t kissing him. In the rather harsh glow of the porch light, Pete looked tired and young; Patrick blushed and dug his fists into his pockets. “Hi.”  
  
Pete gave him a half-cocked smile. “Hey. So, this is quite a porch you’ve got here. It’s got steps and everything.”  
  
“Yeah, it came with the house. I told my parents that there was no way I was living in a house that had a porch with no steps.” Patrick was pretty proud of himself for not stumbling once on his words while Pete just grinned at him. “You didn’t have to do this.”  
  
“This will be more fun than what’s going on at my place.” The weight of Pete’s tone was heavier than the easy shrug in his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get a shake or something.”  
  
The sleek, black Subaru parked by the curb looked daunting compared to the Honda Civic Patrick’s parents owned. “So what kind of bad party did you have to have in order for you to want to hang out with me?” Patrick had meant that to be a joke, but the honestly confused look Pete gave him, made him want his words back. “I mean, I’m not really at the top of the list of Really Cool People To Hang Out With.” (The capital letters were evident in Patrick’s voice) “I didn’t even know you knew who I was.” Patrick strapped his seatbelt on and stared intently at his own thighs, wishing his mouth would shut the fuck up.  
  
Patrick could feel Pete put the SUV into gear and pull away from the curb. “Jeeze, give me a little credit, ‘Trick. You’re in my ACF class with Walker. I know everyone in that class. And I’ve seen your myspace, you’re definitely Really Cool People to me.”  
  
A little insect of a voice inside Patrick whined in the back of his mind. “Why is he really talking to me? Is this some kind of horrible joke? Am I going to be turned into Carrie or something?” Instead, Patrick just nodded and let his eyes look at anything other than Pete; he was scared that if he look directly at the boy, Pete might disappear into thin air and Patrick would realize this was a fucked up dream. Or, ya know, something like that.  
  
“Jesus, am I that bad of a guy?” Pete asked aloud as he turned into the parking lot of a McDonald's. He turned to look at Patrick. “I’m not stuck up the way everyone thinks I am. I’m just friends with the people who I’ve always been friends with.” Pete shook his head and looked forward as he continued. “I never meant to alienate anyone. I’ve just been stuck in my own head for so long that I don’t think I know how to really let anyone in.”  
  
Patrick was feeling really out of his depth right about now. He stayed quiet, fidgeting with the side of the seat. Of the three cars in front of Pete’s, one was a red coupe, and the other two were Chevy Impalas; Patrick thought that was odd. Looking over at Pete, Patrick realized he was being stared at. Patrick’s eyes shifted around the car, as if they were trying to figure out who Pete was actually looking at. “Um…”  
  
“There’s something about you-“  
  
“Thank’s for choosing McDonald's. Can I take your order?” The speaker by the menue shouted at them in a staticy baritone. The boys winced.  
  
Pete looked at Patrick. “Chocolate or Cherry?”  
  
Patrick shrugged. “Chocolate?”  
  
“Two medium chocolate shakes, please.” Pete pulled a wad of crumpled bills from his jean pocket, coins spilling to the floor.  
  
“Please drive around to the window.” The speaker sounded like it had one last order left in it before it would die.  
  
Patrick reached down to pick the change up for Pete at the same time Pete said, “Leave it.” Reaching a hand beneath Pete’s seat to grab a runaway dime, Patrick literally shrieked, snatching his hand back, shaking it in mid air. “Gross!”  
  
“What-oh fuck.” Pete nearly collided into the bumper of the white Impala in front of his SUV when he realized that a used condom had been slung from Patrick’s hand to the dashboard and was currently hanging off one of the air vents. “I’m going to kill him-kill him dead.” The lady at the window was holding her hand out impatiently, repeating the total of his order all the while Pete was scrambling to find something to wipe the mess up with.  
  
Patrick was practically curled into a ball on his seat, mortified beyond belief, mind quickly turning from scenario to scenario in which a used condom was needed. This was a bad idea.  
  
Finally throwing the condom out the window (despite the glaring woman with fake nails), Pete handed her a ten and rolled up to the second window, not even waiting on his change. His chest was heaving and he was hoping Patrick would somehow forget the past five minutes. “Sorry about that. Bert, uh…apparently got busy in my car with someone.”  
  
“Gerard.” Patrick supplied, head resting against the cool glass of the window. “I guess it’s partly my fault then. I brought Gerard with me to the dance and that’s where they met.”  
  
“You…uh…you and Gerard…are you together?” Pete might have sounded a little jealous. He handed Patrick a chocolate milkshake which a tiny black woman had handed him with a grin. When he saw Patrick give him an incredulous look, Pete clarified. “I mean, was he your date?”  
  
“Not really. He’s my grandparents’ exchange student and they made him go with me to the dance to get him out of the house. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” Patrick’s eyes widened before he exhaled through his nostrils.  
  
Pete nodded. “Cool.” They drove in silence for a little longer before Pete pulled into the parking lot outside the Elementary School playground. “Wanna swing?”  
  
The metal chains holding up the swings groaned at the weight of both boys. Pete drug his feet over the sand, moving from side to side. Patrick pumped his legs forwards and backwards, getting higher into the air; he hadn’t been on a swing since fifth grade. “This is fun.” Patrick commented as he let himself fall backwards, eyes shut. He was flying.  
  
Pete twisted the chains, curling them tighter and tighter until he was forced to stop. He brought his feet up and was suddenly slung into a spiral. He laughed and listened to the air rushing in his ears. When he finally slowed down, he said, “Ashlee only wants to come here if she feels like camera-whoring. Everything has to have a definite purpose for her.”  
  
  
Slowing himself down with the soles of his sneakers, Patrick looked at Pete. “Is everything okay?”  
  
“I don’t even know how to answer that.” Pete looked up at the sky; it was overcast and he couldn’t see any of the stars. He looked back at Patrick. “Why me?” When Patrick didn’t immediately read his mind, Pete asked the full question. “Why do you want to sleep with me?”  
  
For the second time that day, Patrick’s heart stopped (okay, not like, literally, but close enough) and he turned bright red, stuttering. “Wh-what are you talking about?” His voice had a bit of a nervous laugh to it.  
  
“I read the survey you did in ACF. You said that if you could lose your virginity right now, you’d want it to be with me. Why?”  
  
This had to be Patrick’s worst nightmare come to life. “I…I don’t know…you’re you. You’re Pete Wentz. You’re funny and hot.” Patrick bit his lip and waited for Pete’s response.  
  
Pete shook his head. “You don’t even know me. I could be a complete asshole or a worse homophobic asshole.”  
  
In a small voice, Patrick said, “I guess I just have to take my chances then.” He was looking down at Pete’s right hand, not really seeing it.  
  
Inching over, still sitting in his swing, Pete reached over and pulled Patrick into a soft, chaste kiss. He knitted his brows in frustration as the chains of his swing wanted to pull him away; Pete grasped Patrick’s swing and licked at his swollen bottom lip. Patrick let out a little breathy noise, leaning into the kiss but too scared to actually touch Pete. They broke apart, eyes bright as the stars should have been.  
  
“All you have to do is ask.” Pete whispered before pumping his legs as hard as possible, swinging higher and faster into the air.  
  
Patrick’s lips felt like they were buzzing. He tracked Pete’s body with his hazel eyes. He’d been kissed twice tonight and both time, he’d been just as confused. “Joe-“ Patrick’s mouth opened and started speaking without his permission. “Joe kind of likes me…”  
  
Pete kept swinging, not responding. Patrick didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  
  
“We’ve been friends since sixth grade; he’s my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without him, but…but the thing is, I don’t like him that way.” Patrick was speaking his thoughts, fleshing out his feelings with narration. He twisted his fingers in his laps. “I don’t want to hurt him.”  
  
Pace dwindling, Pete let his feet catch on the sand until he was completely stopped. “You can’t help how you feel, Patrick. If it’s not him or me, it’s going to be someone. Whoever you end up with is going to be really lucky.”  
  
“I think you might be romanticizing things a little, Pete.” Patrick sighed and suddenly he felt older and wiser than even Pete. “I like Joe, but not in a physical way. I like you in a physical way, but I don’t know if I actually like you. That’s the story of my life.” Patrick rubbed his temple against the metal chain.  
  
“I know.” Pete sounded defensive. He looked over at Patrick. “But you could try.”  
  
[when i wake up]  
  
Patrick awoke six in the morning in the back of Pete’s Subaru (fully clothed, thank you very much), head leaning against Pete’s boney shoulder. They were outside his house. Through the windshield, Patrick could barely make out the form of Gerard curled up on the yard, snuggling a lawn flamingo. Patrick’s eyes were bleary and his neck was stiff, but he was warm. He and Pete had stayed up talking until one or both (Patrick wasn’t really sure) boys had fallen asleep, holding each other. Patrick turned and pressed a kiss to the side of Pete’s neck before quietly getting out of the SUV.  
  
“Gerard, wake up. You need to go inside.” Patrick pulled at the other boy’s hand until he started to respond. “It’s six. C’mon.” He was whispering even though no one would have been bothered by his voice (except Gerard who was suffering from a massive hang over)  
  
“God, turn the volume down, okay?” Gerard shielded his eyes from the rising sun. “Hey, who’s car?”  
  
Patrick turned around, almost surprised somehow, that it was still there. “Pete’s.”  
  
Gerard nodded. “So, you finally hooked up with him then?” He smiled a little before wincing and putting a hand to his mouth; Gerard looked a little green.  
  
Ushering him inside, Patrick shrugged. “Something like that.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> God. MySpace. This fic is so dated. 
> 
> Scene breakers from Fall Out Boy's "Grand Theft Autumn."


End file.
